


Things he’d never be

by Lleu



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: 5+1 Things, Coming Out, First Kiss, M/M, cousin incest I guess (they kiss)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: Five times Jon kissed guys and one he didn’t (not in that order). Moments from the life of Jonathan III of Conté.





	Things he’d never be

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely implied Alex/Roger, if you choose to read it that way.

They all knew that _things happened_ (as Duke Gareth euphemistically put it, the one time he mentioned it at all) between men, outside the castle especially and, sometimes, even inside its walls. The trouble, in Jon’s opinion, was that nobody would _talk_ about it. He knew it was expected that “things” would “happen”, even with the prince. But he was pretty sure it was expected, too, that he’d set aside these “things” eventually. That he wouldn’t _feel_ things about them. About his friends, that is.

His first kiss was from Gary. They were pages still, only thirteen; it was after a feast, where they’d been watching the knights and squires going back and forth between the ladies of court.

“Isn’t Elisa of Keldan something!” Gary said as they were walking back to their rooms.

Jon didn’t have an answer right away. His thoughts had drifted back — and he already knew this wasn’t how it was “supposed” to be — to Sir Tyber’s face, instead. Still, after a few seconds he found words that seemed to fit: “Oh, yes. she is.”

But Gary, of course, noticed the pause. “Isn’t she?” he asked. “Or did you prefer one of the other ladies?”

“No,” Jon said, a little too fast. “Elisa of Keldan is lovely.”

Gary snorted. “You’re not going to convince me with _that_ , your highness,” he said with a broad smile. “I think you _do_ prefer another woman.”

Jon felt his face getting hot; he couldn’t very well deny it now. “...Maybe.”

“I knew it!” Gary slung an arm around Jon’s shoulders. “You can tell me anything.” Jon looked back at him seriously, and Gary said, still laughing, “What, is she married?”

Jon laughed shortly. “No. Gods, Gary, can’t you stop laughing for ten seconds?”

Gary stopped and sighed. He took his arm off Jon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jon. Sure. What’s wrong?”

Jon licked his lips before speaking. If he said it... But it was _Gary_. “Do you...do you ever feel like you’re _different_? From other people, I mean. From how you’re supposed to be.”

“I think everyone feels like that,” Gary said, “sometimes.”

“But _really_ different,” Jon said. Now that he’d started he needed Gary to understand.

Gary took a long moment before answering, this time. “Maybe.”

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about this,” Jon said. “Forget it. Go to bed.”

He turned to leave but Gary stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait, Jon.”

Jon stopped and turned back to him.

Gary leaned in, then, closed his eyes, and kissed Jon. It was brief, and pretty dry, but it was a kiss. When it ended, neither of them said anything for a bit.

“Different like that, you meant?” Gary asked.

“Yeah,” Jon said, feeling as if his whole world had turned upside down. “Different like that.”

Gary nodded. “Yeah. I wondered about you.” Another long pause. “I’m sorry, Jon.”

And Jon knew what that meant.

“You know I’ll always be ready to fight for you.”

And it came back to him suddenly that he was a prince. That he would be a king one day. “Yes. I know.”

“If circumstances were different, maybe things would be...” Gary started, then stopped. It was better if they didn’t say it. “It’s not...I’m not...you know.”

“I know,” Jon said, and he realized he _did_. They all had different things weighing on them. On him especially. That was how it was, and how it always would be.

But.

“Can I...?” he asked, not quite able to finish the question, and Gary nodded again. Jon took a step closer and kissed him. This time it was a little wetter. Better, overall.

They held the kiss longer this time. When Jon finally pulled away, they both sighed.

“That’s how it is,” Gary said.

“Yeah,” Jon agreed. “That’s how it is.”

“Good night, your highness,” Gary said.

“Good night, cousin,” Jon said.

When he got to his room and closed the door behind him, he cried for a while, quietly, for all the things he’d never be.

*

Jon thought sometimes that — or wondered, at least, if — maybe Alan was waiting for him to make the first move. Actually, if he was being honest, he’d given the matter a lot of thought, first because he was trying to find a way to let Alan down gently, if it came to that, and then because the more he thought about it the less sure he was that was what he wanted to do.

It probably should have been a relief when he found out the truth, but mostly it just left him more confused than ever.

*

It was later than he should be out, and Jon knew it, but here he was, watching the servers at the Dancing Dove clean up after the Court of the Rogue, several of whom, in varying degrees of drunken stupor, were now being unceremoniously dislodged from their places.

“What a night, eh, Johnny?” It was George, of course. Jon wondered sometimes how he did it — how George, this affable young man only a few years older than Jon himself, could be the Rogue of Tortall.

“What a night, indeed, George,” he said.

“Are you headed home?” George asked, seeing Jon glance at the door.

“I have to, I’m afraid,” Jon said. “duty calls — you know how it is.” He did, too, in his way, Jon thought. Apart from the king himself, George probably understood Jon’s position better than anyone in Tortall.

“I’ll walk with you a ways, if I may,” George said. “It seems to me we barely got a chance to talk tonight.”

“I’d welcome the company,” Jon said. “It’s late to be wandering the streets alone.” This was true, although it wasn’t as if Jon couldn’t take care of himself if it came down to it. But he liked George, and two were less likely to meet trouble in the first place.

George said his last farewells, and they ducked out through the back (a habit of George’s that he claimed — and Jon believed him, more or less — had saved his life more times than he could count) and made their way through the back alleys of Corus.

“You should come out more often,” George said. “I hope this isn’t out of line, but you always look happier at the end of the night than you do at the beginning.”

“I always feel better, too,” Jon said. He sighed. “I wish I could come more often, but...”

“Duty calls,” George finished, nodding. “It does that.”

They walked in silence for a while. When they’d almost reached the point where their paths would diverge and Jon would make his way back up to the palace, George stopped walking — Jon, surprised, did the same — and said, “Come home with me tonight.” Jon opened his mouth to answer, but George raised a hand to cut him off. “Hear me out. I know you’re...different. I’ve seen how you look at...certain members of my court. I’ve seen how you look at _me_ , too; not that surprising, since I’ve been looking back. Well, your friends aren’t here right now, and neither are mine. But I am, and you are, and maybe that can be enough, tonight.”

Jon gave him a long look. “I’m flattered,” he said finally, “and...I’m tempted. But I really can’t.”

George nodded. “I know. I just needed to say it. And the offer stands, if...if circumstances change.”

They both knew that was unlikely, but it was a nice thought, anyway.

“Maybe you’ll forgive me if I live up to my name and steal a kiss before we part ways...?” George asked, taking a step closer.

Jon licked his lips, then nodded.

It was a good kiss, soft and lingering. George reached one hand up to tangle his fingers in Jon’s hair, and his other hand slid down between their bodies, just brushing — teasing; Jon could feel him grinning into the kiss — over Jon’s crotch. Then George pulled away, smiling a little sheepishly. “Are you sure you can’t come back with me?”

Jon shook his head. “Truly, I wish I could. but I can’t.” George nodded.

“It was worth a shot.” He managed a grin, although it lacked some of his usual humor.

“If the offer stands,” Jon said after a moment, “maybe I’ll have to arrange another trip to the city. Soon.”

George smiled again, a little brighter this time. “I’m sure the Court of the Rogue would be pleased to see you.”

“And the Rogue himself?” Jon asked, grinning back.

“The Rogue most of all,” George said.

“Until next time, then, your majesty,” Jon said with an exaggerated bow.

“Until next time, your highness,” George answered, bowing in turn. Then, with a wink, he was gone. Jon shook his head and turned onto the street that led up toward the palace.

*

Alex was silent throughout, or at least as silent as sex ever is. When Jon invited him to share a bedroll, Alex gave him a long, appraising look, then answered without words by stripping off his underclothes and lying down naked next to him.

Then when Jon leaned in to kiss him, Alex pulled away, smiling coyly, and reached down to grab Jon’s dick. After that Jon was a little distracted, although he still found himself wondering where Alex learned to give a blowjob like that.

Later, though, he looked at Alex again. He was lying next to Jon on the blanket they were sharing, catching his breath, staring carefully at the ceiling.

“Can I kiss you now?”

Alex didn’t look at him. Jon propped himself up on one arm to get a better look at him.

“If you didn’t want this,” he said, realizing suddenly what this might mean, “you should have said something! You know I’d never order you — order anyone.”

Alex laughed, and there was so much bitterness in it that Jon recoiled. “Oh, Jon,” he said. “Of course I wanted this. It’s all...” He trails off, but turns to look at Jon, who’s staring at him. He smiles, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course you can kiss me.”

“You’re sure?” Jon asks, and Alex nods, so, carefully, Jon leans over and does so. He feels Alex shiver under him. When he pulls back he asks, “Is everything alright?”

Alex takes a moment before answering, then (finally) says, sounding almost like his old self, “Yes. Everything’s alright.” He looks Jon right in the eyes. “Thank you. For this.”

Jon blinks, then smiles back. “Thank _you_ , Alex.”

He lies back down, then. He’d like to put an arm around Alex, pull him closer, but he’s not sure that’s the right thing to do — until, to his surprise, Alex shifts himself closer to Jon; they arrange themselves in a more comfortable position without saying anything else. Jon tries to relax, and he can tell Alex is doing the same, although with little success. He should say something, try to find out, actually, what’s wrong. That’s what friends are for. But while he’s trying to find the right words, he drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up the next morning, Alex is already gone.

*

They shouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place. They both knew that. They shouldn’t have let things get this far. But they had, so instead of being safely asleep in their rooms, they were hiding down a side corridor in the guest wing of the palace, mouths locked together, Raoul’s hands down the front of Jon’s trousers.

“This is a bad idea,” Jon said when Raoul pulled back.

“Do you want me to stop?” Raoul asked.

He should have said, _Yes_. instead he said: “Never.”

“Good,” Raoul said, wrapping a hand around Jon’s cock and kissing him again. Jon closed his eyes and tried to resist — not entirely successfully — the urge to moan. Raoul made a pleased sound and pressed closer to him; he could feel Raoul’s hardness pressing up against his hip.

“Raoul,” he said. “ _Fuck_.”

“Is that” — Raoul kissed him again, hungrily, before continuing — “an invitation?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jon said, sounding more desperate than he meant to. “Please?”

“Come on,” Raoul said, pulling his hand out of Jon’s trousers. “Let’s go to my room.”

*

Thom looked nothing like Alan. Jon was more disappointed by this than he would have liked to admit, after years of hearing Alanna’s references to her twin. Thom was taller than Alanna now — by a matter of inches, but Jon knew Alanna was secretly jealous — and he had a scraggly but, all told, acceptable beard, which Alan had never had, but it was more than that. Thom carried himself differently. Alanna had _presence_. Thom _could_ be perfectly pleasant in social situations — when he put his mind to it. The trouble was that he rarely bothered to put his mind to it. Mostly, he was just polite to a fault, sometimes to the point of standoffishness.

Still, there was something about him. It wasn’t just that he’d passed the tests of Mastery at eighteen, although admittedly that did add to the intrigue. And it wasn’t just the family resemblance, although after that initial disappointment Jon had noticed just how alike Thom and Alanna _did_ look and, from time to time, act. They had a similar fierceness, and clearly the same ambition. It must have come from their mother, because it certainly hadn’t come from the late Lord Alan.

He noticed a lot of things about Thom, once he started looking.

“What is it, your majesty?” Thom asked him, finally, one day in the library, carefully marking his place and closing the book in front of him. He looked Jon straight in the face, and for a moment, in the late afternoon sunlight, his eyes looked like they were glowing.

Jon, who had come to look for a particular book and gotten sidetracked by, well, staring at Thom, felt his face redden slightly, but managed to keep his composure. “What do you mean?”

“With all due respect,” Thom said, “I don’t recall my etiquette teachers in the City of the Gods ever mentioning that royalty were an exception to the injunction against staring.”

Jon laughed. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I was ever taught that, either.”

“So,” Thom said, “what is it?”

Jon looked at him appraisingly. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Me?” Thom sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yes,” Jon said. “In some ways, you’re so much like your sister. In others...not at all.”

Thom raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Jon shrugged. “I’m not sure how to explain it. That’s why I’ve been staring — trying to figure it out.”

“Well,” Thom said, apparently satisfied with that answer, because he was already opening his book again, “let me know when you do.”

So he kept observing, although he made an effort to be more discreet, now. The results intrigued him. A few months later, around the spring equinox, he knocked on Thom’s door. It was after dinner, but not unreasonably late, yet. Thom was in his rooms, of course, and after a few moments he opened the door.

“Your majesty!” Thom said, clearly surprised — understandably, Jon supposed.

“May I come in?” Jon asked.

“It’s your palace,” Thom said wrily, opening the door wider to let Jon into the room.

“I suppose it is, at that,” Jon said, stepping inside.

Thom closed the door softly behind him. “What can I do for you, your majesty?”

“Please,” Jon said, “call me Jon.”

“If you say so,” Thom said, looking amused. “What can I do for you...Jon?”

“Bluntly,” Jon said, “would you share a bed with me tonight?”

Thom looked at him, mildly surprised but also, Jon thought, pleased. “So, you figured it out after all.”

“I guess I did,” Jon said.

“Before I say yes,” Thom said, “I have to ask: this isn’t some weird thing about my sister, is it?”

Jon shook his head firmly. “No. It’s...” Words fail him. “That was...Alanna.”

“And I am not,” Thom said. “You’re sure?”

Jon looked him straight in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Excellent,” Thom said, and kissed him. When he broke the kiss, he said, “I’ve been waiting to do that for some time.”

“Oh, have you?” Jon asked.

Thom smiled. “That’s not the only thing.”

“Is that so?” Jon smiled back. “You know, as your king, I could order you to explain.”

“Ah,” Thom said, his smile turning slightly predatory, “but where would be the fun in that?”

 _Where indeed_ , Jon thought, and allowed himself to be led, laughing, into the bedroom.


End file.
